No, Love
by Noir Lime Canuto
Summary: What if Krum had never asked Hermione to the Yule ball? Would she still have gone with 'the enemy'...


_Disclaimer: This universe and most of the characters within it are not my own. They belong to J.K. Rowling, and all other respective owners._

_**No, Love**_

Going through life, he'd found that Malfoy's deserved the very best of everything. Not only because they could afford it, but because you_ knew_ they could afford it. Whenever Draco was denied the very best, he told himself over and over that it was not what he'd wanted after all. He would not be defeated. Either he won the race, or he hadn't been in it. You'd think loosing would be the easiest thing in the world to do at just about anything, but for Draco, it was very, very hard, and he avoided it at all costs.

Now the Yule Ball was coming up. It was not the sort of thing he liked going to, but the sort of thing it would be suspicious for him not to attend. That sort of event was obnoxious, and he wished they wouldn't hold them. Especially not Balls. Because, well, you had to have a date for a Ball. And when a Malfoy had to have something, he had to have the finest something there was. Usually getting that something was no problem at all, he'd just have to say his name and wait a bit and then eventually it would come his way. But no, not this time. You had to ask for a date. Politely. Not sarcastically. And for once, his name, in fact, his identity, would put him at a disadvantage.

At least his money would come in sort of handy for getting a date. Money couldn't buy a date, but it would buy a rose, and a rose could charm a date. Actually, it had bought several roses, all an elegant, dusty pink.

He held the small bouquet in his hands. In his _shaking_ hands. He was nervous. No, really, Draco Malfoy was fearing something. He was very close to loosing the race. Not only loosing it, but falling flat on his face in front of one of the people he respected the most. Worse, they'd probably enjoy watching. They'd probably be the cause.

The flowers looked so out of place in the library. Everything about the library was rather dead, and old. The books were tattered, the tables were worn, the librarian was even aging and dull. The exact color pink of the petals was, admittedly, a little gray, but that only served to make them softer, not less lively, and so, looking very much alive, they stood out indeed. In fact, they were so alive that they were shaking. No, wait, that would be his hands again.

As he walked down the aisle, cluttered shelves on either side of him, he inhaled shakily. He knew he had to do it then, as soon as he saw her, or he'd never get up enough courage again in time. He'd just remember the look of disapproval on her face as they made eye contact, right before he turned around, pretending like he'd gone the wrong way all along. And a Malfoy was never wrong. But she never thought so, so he supposed she wouldn't have given it much thought when he turned around in the corridor all those times, or else briskly walked past her, eyes on the floor.

"Excuse me, Granger?"

His voice was soft. Softer than she'd ever heard it before. Still, she recognized it as his. There was no hint of laughter, or anything similar to mockery in it. It sounded almost pleading. But, then, it couldn't be. Malfoy never begged, he just whined. He didn't ask for things, he just took. In any case, she'd have to give him the benefit of the doubt. He could be guilty of many crimes, but that didn't mean he'd committed one just then. With this in mind, Hermione looked up from the pages of her textbook, her expression one of mild disinterest.

"Yes, Malfoy?" she asked him, pleased that she'd managed to keep her voice calm when she was so incredibly thrown off by him.

Looking up from the book hadn't helped this any. If anything, it'd made it worse. There he was, Draco Malfoy, holding several roses, a light shade of pink reminiscent of the color in his cheeks. He was standing up straight, but it wasn't with that sort of regal grace he had about him, it was more of a rigid, forced stance. He looked a little lost, and very uncomfortable. Perhaps he'd been stood up by the intended recipient of those flowers? Or else he'd been lost on his way delivering them, and thought he'd stop in the library and ask directions? Probably a case of rearranging staircases. Or, maybe, he'd just received an invitation to the Yule Ball, and was being bothered by someone, and needed a good place to hide? In any case, she'd probably help him. He didn't deserve it, but that didn't mean she'd have to make herself a worse person just because it was him who'd needed helping.

"I was wondering, would you--" he seemed to run out of words. Had he not looked so pathetic and sincere she might've laughed. "Would you care to go to the Yule ball with me? That is, if you don't already have a date?"

"I beg your pardon?" She asked him this politely, not a hint of outrage in her voice. He seemed to take it that she had genuinely not heard what he'd said. Or, perhaps, not quite believed it. Even the brightest witch of their age had to be told twice sometimes.

"Would you care to go to the ball with me?" he repeated, struggling to maintain eye contact. He wanted desperately to look anywhere but at her disbelieving face when she said no. Her expression would haunt him dreams. He didn't want it played back in his head, over and over again. But then, he couldn't look away either. Somehow that would make it seem like he was being insincere, and he wanted her to know he meant it. He really was asking her. It wasn't some stupid joke.

"Yes, Malfoy, if you really mean it, I'd be delighted to go to the ball with you. Thanks for asking." A small smile crept onto her face. Like she was about to break out into some sort of emotion, and she wasn't quite sure what it was yet, but was hoping it'd be happiness.

He hoped it was anything but regret. Not sure quite what to do with himself, he remembered the roses. He tossed them gently into her lap, a few petals breaking loose and fluttering down onto the pages of her book. She kept smiling at him, and he tried to return it, but only managed to bite his bottom lip and do a sort of grimace before nodding shakily and making his way back through the aisle. He told himself to go half as fast as he felt was proper. It was a trick he'd thought of ages ago for when he was nervous, and it usually worked well.

xxx

Draco was glad they'd decided to meet up beside the portrait of the Painted Owls, as it was surrounded by several other portraits filled with birds, and on his way there he'd lost his patience with the portraits who spoke. 'Why are you alone, date leave you?' 'Oh, of course not, isn't he handsome.' 'Need help getting to the Ball?' Even worse were the ones who just eyed him. He didn't like walking around alone, his mind wandered and his thoughts weren't always light.

When she arrived-- precisely on time, of course, being Hermione Granger-- he knew he should have been thinking, 'Wait-- but who's that?' But all that'd really changed was her hair. It did look very pretty, he supposed, but her face always looked like that, and he was rather glad. She clearly couldn't get any prettier, so any changes would mean she either looked fake, or she looked less pretty. One thing he did notice was her dress. Yes, it did suit her quite nicely, but the thing he noticed about it was that it was the exact shade of pink the roses had been. It brought out the gold in her eyes, and made them look more honey-like than usual. Not that they could be improved upon.

He treated her to a smile, and a sort of half-bow. She replied with a grin, and took his arm.

xxx

"Blaise! Blaise, who is _that_?"

"Who?"

"The girl you were staring at before, obviously."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Pansy."

"Oh come off it! The girl over _there_! Dancing with _Draco_!"

"Oh, her?"

"Yeah! Who is she? I can't see from here."

"Draco's date, I hope. I saw him kiss her before."

"So you were looking at her!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh nevermind-- who _is_ she?"

"Y'know, whatserface, that bookish one from Gryffindor? Always hanging around with Potter?"

"That isn't Hermione Granger, you dolt."

"Sure looks like it."

"It does _not_! He wouldn't kiss _her_! He hasn't even kissed _me_!"

"You do realize that_ I'm_ your date, right?"

"Oh, shut up, Blaise, and pay attention! You nearly stepped on my_ foot_."

"Did I?_ So_ sorry."

xxx

"No, Scorpy dear, he didn't throw the roses at me, that wouldn't be very nice," she said, a smile playing across her face. She tried to hide it, though. She wanted her son to think she was taking all of his questions very seriously, otherwise he'd be embaressed, and that's not good for a little ones self esteem. They need to be encouraged. Especially Scorpius, what with all the attention his new little sister was receiving. He needed to know that he mattered. That was why she was spending the afternoon, just him and her, at the park, while Draco watched Evangeline.

"But didn' you say no to him, mummy? When a girl says no, you have to play like you don' care."

"I said yes to him, love. Who on earth told you that?"

"Uncle Ronal' did. He also said if I see Vangie kissin' any boys I gotta stop her from."

"Well, don't always listen to Uncle Ronald, dear. He doesn't mean everything he says."

"Mummy?"

"Yes, love?"

"Di' you get married after you were done dancing?"

"Well, we waited a couple of years for that, actually."

"But you wore a pretty dress. An' you wear one of those at a wedding?"

"Yes, but I didn't wear the same pretty dress at my wedding. The dress I wore on our first date was pink, and my wedding dress was white."

"You know what I think mummy?"

"What, love?"

"I think tha' you only need one dress."

"Well, what if my dress was in the wash? What would I do then?"

"Borrow Auntie Ginny's dress."

"But what if Auntie Ginny wanted to wear her dress?"

"Then she could cas' the Par'um Vess'm charm an' make one."

"Or?"

"Or she could cas' the, um, the Gemini one and match with you. 'Cept I think tha' if you get married, you should be the only one wearin' your dress. No one else wore your dress when you married Daddy, right? Not Auntie Ginny?"

"No, love."

_**xxx**_

_Authors Note: This was written for Fallingstar93's 'Star's Alternative Yule Ball Challenge' challenge. ^^ I hope you enjoyed it, thank you so much for reading. Reviews are very much appreciated as well. I apologize for the awful ending, I really struggled with how to end it. Have a lovely day!_

_-x- N. L. Canuto_


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